Stanley Steamer Ch. 06: Mari & Frieda

"You two have been with Stan before." It was not a question. "I do not intend to join a harem, no matter how good he looks and sounds. Frieda? Where are you?"

"You know I'm with you, Tina." She hugged her partner. "We work well together. We ARE good together. C'mon, let's say goodnight. G'night, kids." She hugged me, and Stan, but not too long. "We can all use a good sleep. Dawn is not so far away."

She tugged Tina after her. I watched their bare butts bounce around Tilly to their tent. So did Stan. Nice show, kids!

Our not-distant-enough tents emitted the same animal sounds as last night.

=====

We were rousted by the morning wake-up alarm, SUNRISE from the Grand Canyon Suite. We cooked the brisk breakfast. Frieda and Tina toted photo gear to the site. Stan and I cleaned the slight disorder and broke-down camp. Then we climbed into Tilly's cab and necked till the documentary team returned. My tee slipped right back on after Stan retied my bikini top. We climbed down to help store Frieda's bulky equipment cases.

We reached our site on a northeast slope of the Old Woman Mountains by midmorning. A shaded bench in a slot canyon was suitable for a pre-noon shoot. We all carried bulky gear a sweaty half-mile. Frieda and Tina worked for an hour; Stan and I explored the narrow canyon's stark beauty. A moist green patch with desert orchids marked a hidden spring.

Another sweaty half-mile of lugging gear back to Tilly left us dehydrated. Time for Gatorade! And time for a rest before we rolled to the Thursday dusk shoot site, not many miles away.

"How about lunch and a shower before we rest, ladies?" Stan asked.

We said yes. Before this hike, Stan had unrolled an awning from the top of Tilly's side for a sun shelter. Now he pulled sandwiches and sodas from a cooler. Just a basic lunch. Then Stan stripped and let Tilly mist him, the spray a bit thicker than before because sweat. I was right behind him. Tina and Frieda followed quickly. This time we soaped and rinsed each other. That was fun. And air-drying was all we needed.

"Stan," Frieda said, "my legs and back and shoulders are sore from that hike with my gear. Could you maybe do your massage magic on me?"

"You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, please."

Stan unfolded a big foam pad from a cargo hold under the awning's shade. Frieda lay face down near one side. Tina and I sat Indian-style on the other side. Stan crouched above Frieda's feet. We were still naked.

Stan started at toes. Frieda moaned. He handled that foot. Moans continued. Slowly up one leg, ankle to calf to thigh to just below her butt, then methodically down the other leg, and past her ankle to her sole and toes, carefully pressed. Frieda moaned louder.

"Oh, that was great. Keep going."

Stan crouched over her back and reached to an extended hand. Each finger, her palm, wrist, lower and upper arms, and deep into her shoulders. She groaned. Out the other arm to fingertips. Then back to her shoulders, her back and sides, to just above her butt.

"My butt too. Keep going."

Stan was gentle but thorough and non-intrusive. He gave each bun a nice pat for 'done'.

"That looked and sounded wonderful", I said. "How come you never massaged me?"

"You never asked."

"Well, I'm asking now. Get out of the way, Frieda."

She rolled to slump next to her partner. I took her place.

Oh, Stan did me! He did me good! I was half-melted when he finished.

Frieda lay on her back, legs drawn up, and her head in Tina's cross-legged lap.

"You want to be magically transformed?" she asked. "Stan the Man can do it right."

Tina hesitated and then shrugged. "Looks pretty safe to me. Sure, ease my kinks away."

I didn't know her perverted kinks. Oh, she meant in her muscles!

Tina laid face-down. Stan did her just as well, just as nicely, with just as many moans and groans of muscle-mended and tendon-tended relief. She rolled on her back.

"Are you just as good with fronts? My legs and arms still hurt."

Did Stan reply, "At your service, ma'am," or "At your cervix"? A gust of wind blew the word away. But he crouched over her breasts and started with her far-flung fingertips. Both arms, and a good head massage, and her neck and shoulders. He moved down her body and yes, he cupped her breasts while avoiding areolas and stiffening nipples. His hands moved down her sides, her hips, gently across her belly, and her inner thighs but non-intrusive. Down an outer thigh and all of a calf, down to a foot and its toes, then restart at thigh-level and down the other leg. Tina was now totally puddled.

"Not bad for a white-eyes," she whispered. "Or even hazel in your case. Thanks, Stan."

"You never did that for me," I accused.

"Like I said, you never asked. You want it? Get down here."

He did me the same except for maybe a little pressure around my muff but nothing obscene. Damn. And I was wet.

Frieda pushed me to my side of the pad and lay prone in the center.

"Me too," Frieda said. "Like last time."

"JUST like last time?" he asked.

"Just exactly like last time. It's okay, Tina. I'm not going anywhere." Was that a warning?

Stan bent low to reach her fingertips. His nipples were near her mouth. She nibbled quickly.

"Hey! Just for that, no ear-rubs."

She licked each nip. "Pretty please?"

He finished that arm, handled her head and yes, even her ears, then bent low, out the other arm. She nipped him again. I had a feeling about where this would go. Beyond her neck and shoulders, for sure

He slid his butt over her hips to handle her sides and boobs and yes, his palms centered on her nipples. He grasped tenderly. Then down her sides again, and inner thighs, just a bit intrusive. Down each leg to her squirming toes.

He looked past her naked body open before him, to her face.

""Just like last time?"

"Yes, and don't worry, Tina, I'm still yours. But Stan is..."

She trailed off. Tina was poker-faced but blushed down to her stiff nipples.

Stan kissed up Frieda's leg to her inner thighs, kissed around there, nuzzled her muff, and gently dove into her pussy. He licked and kissed as carefully as he massaged.

He looked up, looked at me and Tina. "Ladies?" he asked.

I took the hint immediately. I leaned down to suck a nipple. Tina got the hint too, and took the other nipple. I rubbed her shoulder. She rubbed mine. This was sisterly.

Stan kept at his mouth work. His hands eased down Frieda's thighs, her calves, to her feet. He pulled her feet closer and stirred her soles. She writhed and moaned. Her knees framed his head. He took leave of her pussy to lovingly kiss her raised inner thighs, and then returned to her carnal trap. Her hands tangled in his hair to hold his head in place.

Tina moved up to join her mouth to Frieda's. I took over both tits with my hands and lips. Frieda struggled against our assaults but to no avail - I know she screamed into Tina's mouth. Her nipple puffed out into my mouth. She may have squirted into Stan's mouth.

Frieda pushed us all away. "Oh fuck. Oh god. Oh damn. Oh. Damn you, Stan. Oh fuck."

She looked at Tina. "You've gotta, you've just gotta. It's like nothing else, ever."

Tina looked apprehensive but aroused. "Frieda..."

"Tina, I'm yours. We're a team. We'll go places Stan never will. But please, trust me. Trust me about us. Trust me about Stan. He's a good guy. And he'll do you good."

Tina decided. "Okay then, move over. Wait, Stan. I'm not easy. Make me want you."

I guess she was not a total lesbian after all.

Stan sat cross-legged in the middle of the pad and pulled Tina into his lap. Not to stick his thick cock right into her, but to hold her against him, to kiss her face and mouth and neck, kiss to the top of her mounds, and then back to her face. He held her head. She kissed back.

"You're nice," she said. "Pretty good for a white-eyes guy. Now suck my tits."

They untangled. She laid back. He kissed from her throat, to between her breasts, then to one beaded areola, to the other, and back, and again.

"Don't stop now," she whispered.

He kissed down to her bush, then down a leg and up the other. He worshiped her thighs and thatch. Then his tongue went to work. Frieda and I slurped her breasts. Then Frieda went for her partner's mouth. And then sat on her face, watching Stan, giving Tina nothing to breathe but pussy air.

Tina's orgasm was as spectacular as Frieda's, maybe more so. Her legs kicked. Her body heaved. Her grip must have ripped his scalp. Her mouth-to-pussy scream must have almost exploded Frieda's womb.

"Oh Stan," I cried, "me too!"

"Soon enough, Mari, soon enough. But I'm not done here." He positioned his thighs between Tina's. "Okay, Tina?"

Tina had dropped away from Frieda's pussy. "Oh fuck, Stan, oh damn, yes, okay, okay..."

He entered her. "Oh yeah," she moaned, and pulled Frieda back to her tongue.

Stan masterfully fucked into Tina, sucked Frieda's tongue and tits, massaged both bodies under his care, oh so moderately at first, and then faster, harder. Frieda rubbed at her own and Tina's deltas. Her dreamy look contorted as she came again, as Tina came, as Stan came into Tina, his butt clenched, all their leg muscles strained and taut, all their bodies afire.

I was aflame too. My fingers of one hand were deep in my pussy; the others squeezed one boob, then the other. But I wanted more. I wanted Stan, his mouth, his cock, his soul.

Stan rolled away from the partners. I made room for him. He looked at me.

"Okay, now. Get on me. Right now."

I saw Frieda drop into a 69 on Tina to suck that cum-filled Cahuilla cunt. Stan pulled me on top of him. His sticky cock filled my mouth, and grew. His tongue filled set quim a-quiver. I made more animal noises than the couple beside us.

Oh fuck, his mouth and cock felt so good! And his hands on my butt and sides and boobs and shoulders and my butt again, pressing me close, sharing our auras. I was almost in love.

I pulled my head away when his dickhead reached my tonsils.

"Can I-"

He gently pushed me off. "Climb aboard." I climbed aboard.

I aimed him in. I pushed down. He pushed up. My legs clenched. I fucked him. I rode him, long and hard. His hands held my hips. After some time I felt more hands on my body, and lips on my body, and lips and tongues on my tits, and fingers at my delta, oh fuck, oh fuck. After some more time I felt Stan resurgent under me, thrusting faster, and then his gusher into me, and my own shock as cock and mouths and fingers drove me nearly catatonic.

I sure do love fucking Stan.

We all fell apart. We lay on the shaded pad, heads up, side by side, me and Stan and Tina and Frieda. Our hands lay on adjacent groins. Our lungs sucked clear desert air. Our eyes spun dizzily. Our hearts pounded.

"You're not too bad," Tina said, leaning to kiss Stan. "And you're more than okay," she told Frieda with another deep kiss. She looked at me. "Maybe I'll get to know you too."

I climbed over Stan and gave her a full-body hug. "Hello, Tina," I said, and tried to tongue her tonsils. Our knees meshed. Our legs locked. Our arms clenched. "Yeah, someday," I said.

"It's kind of late for a nap now," Stan said. "Anyone want a real shower? We can afford some water. I'll refill in Needles tomorrow."

Four naked humans washed the scent and sweat of sex off each other. That was fun too.

Frieda decided the light was good enough to start Thursday's dusk shoot early. She and Tina setup and worked the site and stayed late. Stan and I 69ed again. It passed the time and his jiz tasted fine. Then a brief shower and no guilty looks when the documentarians returned to a set supper table. Stan had frozen a batch of his great burritos before we left. Steamed and served with a packaged salad and the usual cheap wine, supper was sublime.

We broke down that camp and drove an hour under a full moon and Tilly's high headlights to the Friday dawn site, only a couple of hours out of Needles, but still remote enough. Two tents were our overnight camp. Four in a tent would have been uncomfortable in several ways and maybe over a line. I had Stan. Tina had Frieda. That was fine.

Ferde Grofé's SUNRISE was again the morning alarm. A hasty breakfast, a good shoot while Stan and I "secured the camp" (put stuff away) and I sat naked in his lap, and then the easy drive to Needles with the sun in our eyes.

Tilly attracted some attention, rolling on the town streets to the Amtrak station. I would catch the late-morning train to San Bernardino and the Inland Empire shuttle to Cabazon, well in time for my casino evening shift. Lorna would drive me to Rancho Relaxo to retrieve my car this weekend. Damn, I was glad to have hitched this ride!

I wondered if knowing Tina would affect my job. I hope not. I'm doing fine as-is.

But I would not have minded more time with Stan.

***********

FRIEDA

***********

Stan and Mari's goodbye kiss would have gotten them arrested if anyone was watching. She said she was not in love. Right.

I had not expected Tina to be so accepting of Stan, and Mariana surprised me. Lorna had described her roommate as something of an airhead. No, she seemed pretty solid. A bit misinformed about some things but hey, look what American media fucktards broadcast. My school years in Mexico opened my eyes to right-wing bullshit and poisonous factoids.

Needles townsfolk stared at spindly Waltzing Matilda rolling to and from the rail station where we dropped Mari, the fire station where we refilled our water and an extra barrel, the market where we restocked food et cetera, and the fuel point where we refilled the kerosene barrel. Farm kerosene, no highway tax, just a tip for the attendant. That almost felt like New Jersey.

Stan had his Nokia flipfone out. (Smartphones and tablets would not be invented for a few years.) He seemed to be confirming our upcoming contact.

"Uh huh. Uh huh. Right there, then. Sure, I know where. Two hours? No, won't take more than one unless we stop for a camel train. What, no camels any more? How disappointing. Sure. Sure. The Gunthers. Four horses? I hope they know where springs are; I can't provide for them. Ah, they have that staked out, then. Good enough. We'll be there. Adios."

He turned to Tina and me.

"Okay ladies, we're off to Havasu Landing. We'll talk on the way. Get ready for some high-speed travel. Almost eighty clicks, that's fifty miles per hour. Pardon our steam."

He waved southward. "The world is ours. Let's take it."

Tilly whizzed steadily along the two-lane highway. Passing traffic whizzed by, only a bit less than twice as fast. Startled faces peered up at us. Get your own high-wheeler, folks.

We rolled into Havasu Landing, across the Colorado River from London Bridge, well before the expected hour. Stan drove silently to a corral behind the local Chemehuevi tribal offices. A bronzed blond couple dressed for horseback awaited us. We climbed out.

"Doctors Gunther and Gunther? Please meet Ms Lagarda and Ms Cerna, Frieda and Martina. I am Stan the chauffer. This quiet contraption is Tilly. You are our guides, yes?"

The man shook Stan's hand.

"Mucho gusto. I am Jorge and here is Allaire."

More hands were shaken.

"Think of us more as escorts than guides. Our research has taken us to the sites you are to visit. Local people guided us there."

His speech was lightly accented, not Mexican, almost Argentine. His manner was formal.

The woman Allaire said, "We were not enthusiastic about taking a motor vehicle to what the Chemehuevis designate as wilderness, off-limits to such machines. But I see and hear that this is very quiet and the wheels do not look like they will cause much disturbance. This shall be... interesting."

Her accent was similar. She did not seem welcoming.

"What's the horse situation?" Stan asked.

"We each have two mounts to alternate," Jorge said. "All of our destinations are fairly close to each other. Two reliable springs are in the area. With your water tanks" - he waved at the two extra barrels in Tilly - "we need only return to a spring every three days. You have capacity to carry feed for more than a week, yes? That is what Chairman Luego said. And they can graze at the springs. Ten days in the country should be no problem."

I knew that a working horse drank and pissed about twenty-five or thirty gallons a day. Four horses would go through our hundred-and-sixty-odd gallons pretty damn fast.

"Better make that every two days," I said. "We need water too. They can't have it all."

"This can be critical," Stan said. "We need to mark the topo maps before we go."

Jorge nodded. "Yes, of course. Every detail must be correct. Tell me about your truck.""

"Tilly is steam-powered by the ZEE from Stuttgart. She has torque to haul a dead elephant. She runs silent except for wind and gravel. She runs clean."

Jorge nodded again. "I have heard of that Zero Emissions Engine. Very impressive."

"You know better than to disturb archaeological sites, I hope." Allaire was stern.

"Ms Lagarda trained at San Miguel de Allende in photographing sensitive sites," Tina said. "I studied critical locale documentation at Berkeley. We have teamed at many delicate areas. My tribal council is very pleased with our work."

Jorge said, "So Chairman Luego told us. But those not trained in archaeology can be unwittingly careless and destructive. We must exercise great caution."

"Of course we will," I said. "And what are your backgrounds?"

Allaire seemed to puff with pride.

"We hold anthropology faculty positions at the National Autonomous University in our hometown of Montevideo, Uruguay. We studied there, and Heidelberg, and Canberra, and your Yale. We have worked many digs and published many papers."

Blond South Americans named Gunther. Hmmm. Descendents of German immigrants? Years in Australia and Connecticut explained their excellent English. Much better than my Spanish, for sure.

"What brings you to the Colorado River?" I asked.

"The Chemehuevis are a Paiute people speaking an Uto-Aztecan language," Jorge said. "We look for links between peoples here, Nahuatl-speaking Aztecs and their Mayan subjects, and further Mesoamerican groups, as far as the central Andes. We have hypotheses-"

"Which are not significant now," Allaire interrupted. "And time is wasting, as you say. When do we depart?" No, she was not welcoming at all.

Stan shook his head.

"I thought you knew the country. Noon is not a good time to face the desert. I expect driving to Pima Point and preparing to go off-road should take well under an hour. Your horses, with Tilly following, should reach our first site in well under two hours. We want to be on-site an hour before sunset so Frieda has time to arrange her equipment and shoot her exposures. Have your horses trailered and ready to roll three hours before sunset. What time do you have?"

Stan and Jorge synchronized their digital watches.

"That's that, then. Now we have some plans to revise," Stan said.

An Indian man walked to us from the tribal office.

"Hey folks, how you doing? I see you've met and everything. You need anything, just ask for Beto, that's me. Hey Tina, what's up? How's it hanging?" He hugged my partner.

"Hanging loose, guy," Tina said. "Beto runs the tribe's publicity group," she explained. "He saw the reception Frieda's work gets and pretty much put this expedition together. Thanks for thinking of us." She hugged him back.

"All the best, beautiful. Really, you need anything?"

"A big table, the latest maps, and some cold sodas would be a good start," Stan said.

"You must be Stan the Man," Beto said, shaking his hand. "I heard about this weird beast of yours. Waltzing Matilda, right?" He waved at the odd vehicle. "Silent, strong, deadly, and top-heavy. Just what I like in females." He ogled Tina. "Two outa four ain't bad."